


Blood On the Knife

by KaibaSlaveGirl34



Series: The Two Coreys [14]
Category: American (US) Actor RPF, Dracula & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, American Indian, Ethics, Gen, Indian Character, Inspired by Fanfiction, Inspired by a Movie, Morality, Native American Character(s), Prompt Fic, Vampire Heroes, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7745566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaibaSlaveGirl34/pseuds/KaibaSlaveGirl34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Corey Feldman is a vampire, but an honorable one that sticks to a code of ethics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Harry2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harry2/gifts), [a_shark_swimming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_shark_swimming/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I own the fanfics that I cook up from time to time.

Blood On the Knife

My name is Corey Feldman. I am 18 years of age; I lie on this white, feathery mattress, in this jail cell. I lie on my back, arms crossed Egyptian style, wearing black sunglasses, a red shirt (the button-up kind), black pants (jeans, actually), white socks and black penny loafers. With these clothes of mine, I look — with my beautiful dark brown eyes and black hair — the part of a teen Dracula…

I opened my eyes. The moonlight filtered through my cell window, and I smiled a horrible, smug smile; my lynxlike ears caught so many sounds — people walking by and the calls of other inmates (but not to me), among others.

“Felddog,” said a familiar voice. It was him — Corey Ian Haim. He was 18 also, and he was my friend.

I raised myself up, swung my legs over the side of the mattress and stepped lightly over to where Corey was.

“I didn’t hear you step over here,” he said.

“I’ve been told I have a light footstep,” I replied.

“Wow” was all he could think of to say at the moment; if I was in his shoes and he in mine, I would’ve said the same thing.

I am almost all vampire. That means I used to be human — until that one fateful night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice feedback is, as usual, very much appreciated, of course... :)


	2. Thoughts of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Felddog recalls being sired by Dracula...

I was lying on my bed, asleep, in my jail cell. Then, for some reason, some thoughts and musings kept me awake. I couldn’t get to sleep.

Then, it happened. My eyes fell on the white mist that was creeping in through my cell door. I wondered if my eyes were playing tricks on me. Then wonder of wonders — a figure stepped out of the mist. A figure with red eyes that glowed like fire. He was looking down at me, smiling, and I was looking up at him.

“You are Corey Feldman. I am delighted to meet you,” he said, the smile playing about his lips. “You are a teen idol. A heartthrob. A sex symbol. But you struggle with a drug problem. However, there is hope for you too. I can help you.”

He was right about that.

He lifted me off the bed, supporting me with one arm, and tucked a lock of my raven hair behind my ear, exposing my throat. An image leaped into my mind — one of me kissing my girlfriend Drew Barrymore on the throat. Then I brought myself back to reality upon remembering my drug problem.

“I do need help,” I replied. Well, I had a point there.

Dracula bent his lips to my ear and whispered, “Then, I give you life eternal, everlasting love. The power of the storm, and the beasts of the earth.”

He then laid me on the bed in a sitting position. Whispering still, he said, “Walk with me to be my loving son forever, Corey.”

I replied, whispering also, “I will. Yes, yes.”

With that, Dracula pressed his lips against my throat for a few moments, and then sank his sharp fangs into my throat.

At first, it hurt. I remembered **that** part.

“Oh! Ow! Uh! Uh!” I yelped. It was **that** painful, after all.

Anyway, when I was almost drained to the point of death, I lay on the bed, my head spinning.

An angry expression now adorning his face, Dracula then said (but not to me, although the question was directed at me), “Corey, how dare they do this to you!”

I knew what he was talking about.

“Ah, you mean my parents,” I replied. He nodded, and I added, “My father treated me kind of badly. By the time I was fifteen or sixteen, I had enough. So, I divorced my parents. Legal emancipation, I believe they call it.”

“Why?” Dracula asked.

“I made the money and they spent it,” I growled.

Pulling me into the sitting position, Dracula opened his shirt and sliced his chest with a clawlike nail. When the blood made its appearance, he whispered, “Corey, drink, and join me… in eternal life.”

His words hypnotized me. Willingly, I pressed my mouth to the wound, and his blood began flowing through me — through my veins.

 _“Who are you?”_ I asked him in my thoughts.

“I am… Count Dracula,” he replied.

 _So that’s why he looked so familiar,_ I thought.

I closed my eyes as I continued to drink. I wondered where I had seen him before.

Then I remembered something else. Could he be… Vlad the Impaler also?

Then, I opened my eyes and pulled myself away from the wound in Dracula’s chest, which healed itself up. Blood smeared my mouth, chin and nightshirt.

There was a sound of breaking glass, and then the Haimster appeared, stopping at the doorway of my cell (which was already open). (I remember that he looked like his character Sam Emerson from the 1987 film **The Lost Boys**.)

 _Haimster, run!_ I thought desperately.

“Stay back! Stay back!” he said, holding his left and right index fingers in the shape of a cross. Thankfully, he was talking to Dracula, not me.

“You fool!” Dracula hissed, baring his bloodstained teeth. He then vanished. Mist appeared, and then a cloud covered the moon — so the moonlight failed. When the cloud — and the mist — disappeared, the Haimster’s hands dropped to his sides, and he ran over to me.

“Felddog — that blood!” he said, shocked.

“Yes!” I replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice feedback is, of course, very much appreciated, as usual... :)


	3. Captured by... Indians

That night, we, the two Coreys, escaped from the prison cells and raced into the mountains. Ah, the mountains were so majestic — so beautiful.

That night, as we slept, there came the sound of… Indian drums — which meant the Indians were coming.

A ruckus of sorts ensued, and in the melee, something — I’m not sure what — hit us from above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice feedback is, as usual, very much appreciated, of course... :)


	4. Around the Campfire

When Haim and I awoke, we found ourselves on a… fur rug covering a dirt floor… in a wigwam! 

“We must be in their village,” I deduced, and I was right.

It was morning now. A flap of the wigwam door was pushed aside, and an Indian peered in at us. This was the Chief — I could tell because he was wearing a headdress made of eagle feathers. Apparently, he must’ve liked what he was seeing because he smiled and beckoned to us.

“Come,” he said. “They are waiting for you.”

Haim and I grinned at each other, and followed; as we stepped out of the wigwam, I sensed something — although what it was, or whether it was big or small, I wasn’t sure. So I made a mental note to think it over later.

Then we were aware of the Indians. They sat on logs in a circle around the burnt-out fire. We sat on an empty log, side by side, and waited.

The Chief, who was sitting across from us, said, “My friends, look at these two boys. They are handsome.”

Apparently, the Indians must’ve agreed with him, for they looked at us and grinned; their smiles flashed in their dark faces. Then, they turned and began to chat with each other (almost as though having forgotten us).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice feedback is, of course, very much appreciated, as usual... :)


End file.
